


Walk

by wynnebat



Series: The Sentinel of Beacon Hills [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Laura Hale, Alternate Universe - Sentinels & Guides, Family Feels, Gen, Past Character Death, Resurrection, Sentinel Laura Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 18:59:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8857120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wynnebat/pseuds/wynnebat
Summary: Laura Hale: zombie, werewolf, beta, sentinel, niece, sister, resident of Beacon Hills. It's a mouthful.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LaughingCat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaughingCat/gifts).



> Huge thanks to LaughingCat for requesting this fic during the ongoing [Fuck 2016 Charity Month](http://fuck2016charitymonth.tumblr.com/) event! <3

Death unlatched itself from Laura slowly in the weeks after she was freed from the grave.

Peter had gotten the optimal outcome (as Peter always did, and that stung, but with less anger than it could have). He'd risen with the strength he'd leeched from the banshee girl and the benefit of his bond with Stiles, impermanent as it had been at the time. Laura had been pushed into her body with no preparation and just enough power to kickstart the barest of her body's healing abilities, just enough to keep her limbs from falling off when she climbed out of her grave. It was her luck it was a shallow grave. Derek had insisted on burying her himself despite not being very good at digging graves. Needing help getting out of her own grave would've been too much.

Cosmetic changes would only follow her organs healing, Deaton explained when he'd visited the day after her resurrection. If she still looked like an extra in a zombie movie after a month, then they'd know there was a problem. In the meantime, she was supposed to rest and stay inside.

In theory, it meant she'd have a lot of time getting her story together. In practice…

"How do you think brains taste like?" Laura mused as Netflix started up her fifth episode of iZombie that day. She was sprawled out lazily on Peter's couch, tucked under three cozy blankets. "And don't say like chicken."

"I don't think it would be like chicken," Stiles replied from his spot in the armchair next to her. "It's not like meat, right? It's mostly made of nerve cells and fat."

"75% water," Laura recounted from the last zombie movie she'd watched.

"Right, so would it even have a taste?"

"It could probably taste faintly of chicken," Laura decided. "If it's fried up."

"Can it be fried? Dad's always saying I'll fry my brain cells watching TV, but I don't think it's even possible to fry up nerve cells."

"iZombie seems to think so. I think it's encouraging cannibalism or something, because all those brains just look really good."

"You're not frying brains in my kitchen," Peter called out from the bedroom. "Do it somewhere else."

"Jeez, uncle, you kill me and then have the gall to tell me I can't make brains in your kitchen."

Peter sighed deeply. She probably could've heard it even as a human, but as sentinels she and Stiles could hear every note of aggravation in it. God, she'd missed being alive.

"You know, I think Peter would actually like beef brain," Stiles said.

"I hear calf's brains have a better flavor." Laura really was beginning to sound like a zombie expert. She'd started watching zombie movies out of irony, but after twenty or so she'd realized they'd grown on her. Like terrible, B-rated mold.

"…They do," Peter muttered from his room. And then came the tell-tale sounds of him putting down his book and getting out of bed to join them in their zombie discussion and lecture them on the taste of brains.

She reached over to meet Stiles' high five.

Peter could believe himself to be too good for zombie movies all he wanted, but they were slowly converting him.

 

*

 

Derek had been the last to know of her resurrection. It had been completely by accident, no matter what Peter would later say about it; she'd meant to get to Peter's apartment and give him a call straight away, but her body had nearly collapsed at the sight of a bed, and Laura had decided that maybe it would be best if she didn't pass out during Derek's visit. It wouldn't do to traumatize he little brother even more.

On her first morning as a living person again, she made a face in the mirror. She still looked like a zombie, even if she did feel a little better. Over breakfast, which Peter was apparently still repentant enough to make for her, she said, "I should tell Derek I'm alive."

Peter made a face. "We could just never let him know. He'll be unbearable once he finds out."

"You're being cruel, cut it out."

"That's life."

Laura huffed. Good lord, she'd actually thought her death might've brought Peter and Derek closer together. Grief had done that for her and Derek. "Are you still angry at him?"

Shrugging, Peter said, "Of all the people who were involved in our family's deaths, the only one I didn't kill was Derek. And believe me, he was more culpable than some of them. He told Kate about the escape tunnel. And the whole schedule of the reunion. It—it was pure idiocy."

"He thought he loved her," Laura said. She thought that maybe, she didn't hurt as much as Peter. She'd had years to deal with the pain, to forgive Derek for things that weren't his fault. To be able to look at him without seeing her mother dying in her arms. "And he was just a kid. Not even eighteen."

"Hence him continuing to breathe." Peter rubbed his temples. "I— I know it's not his fault. I _know_ that. Kate Argent was a despicable human being. But that was our family—that was my entire life up in flames, all because he fell in love. And it was with a predator and a bitch, but… He still betrayed us. Kate would've already known we were werewolves—that's not something a pack as long-lasting as ours could've hid from the Argents—and the only thing she needed was to make sure we'd all be in one place without a way out. And he invited her to our reunion that day."

"I know," Laura said, her voice as soft as she could make it. "I still haven't forgiven you for killing me. And you're a dick for going after the innocent Argents. But her? Kate and the pieces of filth who helped her had it coming. I'll never have a problem with what you did. But deal with your feelings about Derek, please. For all our sakes. We're the last Hales left. I don't want to spend the rest of our lives fighting."

Maybe you weren't supposed to have favorites when it came to family, but Laura always had. She'd loved Uncle Peter more than Aunt Elizabeth, Derek over Cora and Newton and Hailey just because he was closest to her in age, dad more than mom because too often her mom had needed to be the alpha, not a mom.

Peter had always seemed so smart to her when she was growing up. He was the cool uncle, the one she'd gone to with her pregnancy scare and the one who'd helped her get revenge on the guy who'd stood her up on prom night. She felt unbearably guilty for how happy she was that he was with her again. Not as her beta, not as her guide, and not as the same man she'd known, but it was fine. They'd rebuild.

The only thing Peter said to that was, "I need a drink if we're going to keep having family moments."

Laura smiled. Maybe Derek and Peter would've been content never having a civil word again, but she was here now. She'd make sure the Hale pack was a pack again, not three jerks with grudges (herself included in that number, she thought ruefully, because she knew she could hold her anger at Peter forever if she wanted to).

"I'd say we should go out later, but I think I'd cause a panic."

"I have some wine in the pantry." He poured them both a glass and picked up his phone. "I suppose you want to meet him here?"

Laura nodded.

With a huff, Peter selected _idiot nephew_ from his contacts. "My address is a secret for a reason, you know."

"The reason being that you're a terrible uncle," Laura replied.

"He's a terrible alpha. And, if he doesn't know where I live, he can't storm in here every time he fucks up."

She sighed. She wasn't touching that with a stick. It looked like they'd all been terrible alphas, and the wheel of power just kept spinning.

It was five rings until Derek picked up. "Hello?"

Laura's heart skipped a beat.

Peter must've heard it, because he grimaced. "There's something I have to say to you. In person. Come to 26 Lighthouse Avenue, apartment 12 immediately."

"No thanks."

"I tried," Peter said, glancing at her.

Taking the phone from Peter, Laura said, "Listen to your uncle, Dee."

" _Laura_?"

She heard something crash and then footsteps. The slam of a door.

"He's probably going to speed, too. Terrible citizen. You should've raised him better."

Laura considered dumping her wine on him, but she needed it too much. She settled for elbowing him roughly. "He didn't give me a chance to warn him about my face."

And the rest of her body, but she was covered neck to toe. It was only her face that betrayed her for the still-healing zombie-looking person she was. One of these days, she thought she might finally see herself in the mirror again, but that wasn't today.

She'd poured herself another glass of wine when she first heard Derek. He was definitely speeding, she thought fondly, concentrating all her senses on him. His was the fastest car on the road. He skidded to a stop in someone else's parking spot and ran out, taking the steps to the second floor three at a time. He didn't knock on the door and Laura ignored Peter's put-upon look because god, there he was, her baby brother. Five years her junior and a couple inches taller than her and much broader in the shoulders, but still her baby brother.

Derek's eyes widened at the sight of her but he didn't hesitate. Laura found herself in his arms, his hug tight around her.

"Hey," she whispered into his chest. "Surprise."

His response was muffled by her shoulder.

"I'm sorry for taking so long to come back." Because she could've, maybe, if she'd tried harder. She hadn't truly been dead.

For the longest time, Derek had been the only person she had in the world. She hadn't been the best older sister to him after the fire. She'd taken him in and supported him and tried to get him to keep going to therapy, but she'd been grieving herself. Sometimes it had just been so easy to go into the spirit world and ignore the natural one. She hadn't been a great alpha to Peter. She hadn't been a good human being to herself, either. They were all so very broken, every last Hale. Laura hugged him tighter.

Finally, he pulled back. "How…? How are you alive?"

"Peter and Stiles get all the credit for that one," she said, and began to explain the entire story.

It was a long one, a sad one.

Derek stayed over that night. And the next. Stiles came by the following day—apparently, Peter had been perfectly fine with giving _him_ the address—and things started getting a little cramped. Laura even reminisced on their old, tiny apartment in New York. There had at least been a bedroom available for all of them instead of Peter in the bedroom, no one in the second bedroom because it had been remodeled as a home office and didn't even have a couch, Laura on the couch in the living room, and Derek on the floor next to her.

It made for some interesting midnight conversations, but all three of them were far too independent to love the arrangement.

"Do you still have any of my old things?" she asked one evening. Most of it was junk, but some things… Her painting supplies, a couple limited edition handbags, the family photo albums, those she hoped Derek hadn't given away.

Derek suddenly looked shifty. "Everything, actually. I had it all brought over to a storage locker in town."

Laura reached over and patted his cheek. Humor and alcohol was the only way they were going to get through all of this. "Really, you've got to stop with this pack rat thing of yours. I was dead for ages."

Before closing the door on them in favor of going to the Stilinski house for dinner, Peter threw out, "Well, considering he hasn't had much room to hoard things in the burnt out husk of house or the abandoned train car he's been living in, I'd say it's an improvement."

Laura could say very little about bad coping strategies without sounding like a hypocrite, but she did anyway. Older sisters had to be a little hypocritical when it came to their little brothers.

 

*

 

She still dreamed of the spirit world. Blair told her the memories of it would fade from her mind eventually, but she wasn't sure. Things had been simple there. They'd hurt less.

Her spirit animal stayed on the human plane constantly, flying above Peter's building or perching on the windowsill. She wasn't ready to let go of him completely.

 

*

 

Stiles was a strange one.

Before the fire, Laura hadn't imagined Peter being a guide to anyone but herself. They'd fit easily together. Maybe not perfectly, but well enough, their senses buttressing each other's through their bond. They'd chosen each other because they were the only sentinel and guide the other knew. Stiles and Peter… they'd chosen each other _despite_ everything, rather than because of it. Laura almost couldn't understand it.

On one of Stiles' first visits, she asked him about it.

He'd just finished explaining the relevance of Dead Rising to her situation and, "Are you sure about all this?" maybe hadn't been the best response, but Laura couldn't help herself. No one had ever accused herself of keeping to herself too much.

"I'm absolutely certain you'll love the game," Stiles replied with fervor. "Or are you talking about Peter?"

"Peter," Laura said, simply. The two had bonded that night in the makeshift graveyard next to the Hale house, tying their lives together with the only thing a bond needed to form: acceptance.

"Yeah, think I do," Stiles replied, a bit thoughtfully.

"He's a jerk," Laura warned. "And—"

"Power hungry? Ruthless?"

Laura raised an eyebrow.

"You can't think I didn't realize it would increase his power, to bond with me."

"I didn't know what to think. My uncle kills me, then he brings around a high schooler that he wants to psychically bond with."

"You gonna bring that up every time?"

"My death? Every chance I get, until he stops feeling guilty about it. By then, I'll have found something new. I mean, it's Peter."

Stiles nodded in agreement.

"Anyway… You'd better not be doing this to get back at him for biting your best friend. We'll be having _words_ if this is an elaborate revenge scheme. And… If at any point you want out, I'm here with a shovel. His death will break the bond."

"You're planning to kill your uncle?"

"Only if he needs it. It's only fair. And I might even bring him back."

"I'm pretty sure you're doing the shovel talk wrong—not that I need one."

"It's just tailored to the situation," Laura replied. Sure, the two of them weren't dating, but Laura remembered what a bond felt like. And Stiles and Peter had basically done the platonic equivalent of eloping after dating for a week. "I'll do a proper one in a couple years, when I'm less angry with him. Treat him right until then."

Some days, she still wanted to hit Peter with a shovel rather than save him from one.

"I will." There was a gravity in his voice she'd rarely from him. "Don't worry about it."

She thought he might say more, but door opened and Peter returned from his grocery run. Laura wondered what he felt from them. Sincerity, probably. Too much of it. Laura wasn't used to being part of a family; Stiles wasn't used to Peter having any.

Peter glanced between their awkward faces and said, "I don't want to know."

 

*

 

A month later, she finally resembled a woman again, though her skin was still too pale and too soft in the way new skin could only be. She didn't know if she felt like herself. It had been easier not having a real body at all. (It had been easier when she could go to her mom and Talia would growl and fix whatever had gone wrong. But that was years ago.)

She began making plans.

"You're welcome to stay as long as you like," Peter said.

They shared a look that held a whole conversation. It had been as easy as breathing to do so when they'd been bonded, but even now, a little remained. Enough for Laura to know he understood she was grateful for his words, but she didn't intend on staying any longer. She needed to stretch her legs.

"You could go back to New York," Derek offered. "Our apartment would've been rented out by now, but they might still take you back at your old job?"

That was more appealing. "Would you go with me?"

Derek paused, running his hand through his hair. "I want to. But… I'm the alpha now. That has to mean something. I need to make sure things are okay here."

"Then I'll stay," Laura said, easily. "I love it here. Always have. I wanted to come back here after college. But then… after mom and dad died here, I just couldn't go back until it wasn't so raw."

"Is it still raw?"

Laura shrugged. "I went back to the place where I died today. I thought I wouldn't be able to find it, but I'd lost so much blood there that it really wasn't hard. The memories… weren't as bad." A sane person would probably head for the hills. She'd already died in this town once. Hopefully, her next death would happen when she good and ready for it at the ripe old age of ninety five. She glanced at Peter. "What about you? Are you staying? You never lived here after college anyway." And Peter's apartment, it wasn't anything permanent. It wasn't a home.

"I'll stay for now," Peter said. "For a while, at least."

He didn't say a name, but it was loud and clear anyway.

"For two years?" Laura teased. More soberly, she said, "I want to rebuild the old house, if you two would be alright with that. I think the land is split between all of us."

"I'd like that," Derek said.

Peter nodded. "As long as you don't expect me to live there."

"I'd never. Now, I talked to Stiles' dad about it, and we thought up a strategy. It's not good, but…"

 

*

 

"I'm bad with faces," Derek said, straight-faced, sitting on a chair at the Beacon Hills police station.

The strapping young officer taking his statement stared at him.

"It was all a big misunderstanding, really. The woman I identified to be my sister was apparently not her. She came by just yesterday and apologized for going MIA for a while and apparently hadn't even realized she'd been declared dead or whatever."

The officer turned to Laura.

"It's all true. My brother's an idiot and I wanted to get away from him for a while. I was visiting some friends in Arizona after I left here. I guess Derek just panicked. And there's been another mix-up, too. When I arrived a couple months back and visited my dear uncle Peter in the hospital, I realized that the person there wasn't actually my uncle. I think he was just some random guy who got caught up in the fire—I heard he took off from the facility a couple months ago? I'm happy he's recovered, even if I don't actually know him. Yes, I know how it sounds. But how was I supposed to ID him successfully when his face was completely covered in scars? Anyway, I managed to get in contact with Peter and he's just fine, he's been living off the grid and getting lots of therapy for the past six years."

The officer turned to Peter.

"I'm extremely anti-government. What did I care that I was declared dead for six years? I've been living off the land. It's the proper way of things. I will however say I'm happy to have the family together again."

The officer's face did not resemble a happy emotion. "Is there anything else?"

"No, that's it!" Laura said, cheerfully. "But we would like to get our paperwork settled. It's a bit hard signing up for a bank account when you've been declared legally dead."

It was at that moment that John came over. "Parrish, why don't you help Ms. Hale get her life back in order while I take Mr. Hale."

"Sheriff, what? Are we really—"

"I know it's somewhat far-fetched, but I've heard stranger things. The world is really a mysterious place."

Laura grinned. "It really is."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Complete; no sequel planned.


End file.
